Chess Game
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: <html><head></head>White moves first, and then we play. The most dangerous chess game the world has ever known left heavy losses on both sides. Will white or black triumph in the end?</html>


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Written for; **

**Hogwarts - Arithmancy - Assignment 5**

**Greek Myth Competition - Prometheus **

**Disney Character Competition - Jafar (Prompt - Blue) **

**Hunger Games Competition - President Snow **

**As Many As You Want Competition - Sky, Blue Eye, Not Romantic. **

**Chess Game **

_White moves first. The Light Leader plays it safe._

_.x._

Dumbledore sat in his office, tapping his fingers impatiently on his desk. The portraits were all asleep, or feigning as much, and the moon could be seen high in the sky through the window behind him. A knock on the door, followed by a creak, as his guest walked into the office and sat in the chair waiting for him.

A silent pause.

"It's getting darker than ever, Albus. It will be soon."

The speaker, Severus Snape, displayed his left arm for Albus to examine, and watched as Dumbledore pondered his move. It was the opener, they both knew, and it had to be right.

"We wait."

.x.

_Black moves next, and a risk is a gamble the Dark Leader must take._

_.x._

Voldemort sat in his throne like chair, his eyes on the followers stood in a semi circle around him. Gaps, spaces that shouldn't be there, haunted him. His trusted followers, his very best lieutenants were in Azkaban. He needed them to be here.

"We will break into Azkaban Prison. We will free those of us that are in chains, and we will make the World rue the day they thought they were safe."

Murmurs of "Yes, Master," passed from one to the other, like a warped game of Chinese Whispers.

"Then, we plan."

.x.

_White moves, and again, the Light Leader sits back and observes._

_.x._

"You should speak with Harry, Albus. He is struggling, and the toad is helping none with her attitude. The poor boy is floundering, and you are letting him," Minerva said, nursing a cup of tea in her hands.

"I cannot. Not yet. I will explain to him, when the time is right, why I have not had any contact with him. Until then, the danger is just too great."

"So you will leave him to crumble under the pressure of the Ministry?"

"Harry is made of stronger stuff. He will manage, as always, wonderfully. Have faith in him, Minerva."

"I have more than faith in that boy. Do you? You must realise, Albus, that he is a boy. Not a weapon."

"I understand that, Minerva. Perhaps it is me whom you need more faith."

As Minerva left, she didn't see a single tear drop from a bright blue eye.

.x.

_Another risk for the Dark Lord, and not one that will leave him free from casualty._

.x.

"Lucius, you will lead the mission. I expect that Prophecy. I will be most _displeased_ if you fail me."

"Of course, My Lord."

"Do not underestimate him. He has escaped me too often. I must have that Prophecy. You may leave."

The Dark Lord pondered his plan. It wasn't foolproof, he knew, and perhaps he should have made a simpler, safer plan. But then, his followers knew better than to disappoint him. They would get him the Prophecy, of they would face the brunt of his anger.

Standing from his seat, he idly wondered how many of them would stay alive if they didn't achieve his goal.

.x.

_The Light Lord took too long to take his move. His reluctance cost him greatly._

_.x._

"How is Harry, Albus?" Remus asked. The Order meeting was over, and the members getting themselves ready to leave.

"As far as I can tell, he is coping. We cannot ask, nor expect more than that."

"Hmm. Seems to me that if you had told the boy earlier, none of this would have happened," Moody put in as he buttoned his travel cloak.

"I had my reasons," Albus replied, calmly but firmly.

"Were they worth it? Your actions cost us a member, and caused Harry to lose the only family member he had left," Moody replied with a snort. His idea's about the coming war and Dumbledore's were very different.

"Harry will do what he must, when the time comes. You must trust me on that."

"And how many people must die, before _you_ decide he is ready?"

Albus didn't answer, he just looked at Moody with sad eyes for a moment, before departing, '_The Greater Good'_ echoing in his head.

_.x._

_The Black Leader is playing to win, and win, he believes, he shall._

_.x._

Voldemort watched from afar, and through reports, as the Malfoy boy did his bidding in Hogwarts. He didn't expect the boy to succeed. He didn't want the boy to succeed, not really. He enjoyed the power he had over his followers, and at the moment, Lucius in particular.

The man wasn't quite as smug as he had once been, and as far as the Dark Lord was concerned, it was a welcome change.

No, Draco was not to succeed. Severus, Voldemort knew, would do the job in the end. The time was drawing nearer for the spy to show who he really worked for. Voldemort was... anticipating the end results. By the end of the year, he would either have a truly faithful follower, or another corpse to lay at his feet.

.x.

_The White Queen Topples and all seems lost. But the king... The king is still alive._

_.x._

"Who will lead the war effort now Dumbledore is no longer here?" Tonks asked at the first meeting following Dumbledore's death.

"What war effort?" Moody shrugged. "We have nothing but Potter, and while he might have the power to kill Voldemort, he isn't ready yet and won't be any time soon. The war is already lost."

"So we give up?" Lupin asked, an eyebrow raised.

"No. We fight. We fight until we are dead, and we hope that Potter is ready soon," Moody replied.

"That's a... That's a shit plan, Mad eye," Tonks muttered. "I for one, believe that Harry can do what he needs to do. Until then, we'll have to help him, and protect him."

"So we protect and we fight."

"Until he's ready."

_.x._

_The Dark Lord is confident, until the final moment comes. Until it all comes crashing down._

_.x._

Potter is talking, something about Love, and spies, and Dumbledore. Why would he mention Dumbledore. The old man is dead, he doesn't matter any more. Voldemort keeps moving, his eyes never leaving his target.

Will it work? The safeguards are gone. How on earth did the little shit manage that? It had to work. It's taken a long time, been a hard battle, but Voldemort is confident. He has the wand. He has the power.

The Wizarding world will be his.

Light, Vibrant Green leaves his wand, and he stops to watch the moment it hits the boy. But it doesn't. It's coming back and there is no time to move.

The chess match is over.

White wins.

.x.

_The remaining white pieces celebrate their win, but it is bitter sweet. Too many light pieces were taken from the board. _


End file.
